


I Want To Believe

by bicroft



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (sort of), F/F, F/M, Fake Reality, Humanstuck, M/M, No One Remembers Sburb, Rebellion, Reincarnation, The Condesce Plays Mind Games, This Is Gonna Be Trippy, Time Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1664531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicroft/pseuds/bicroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat Vantas leads a perfectly normal (abet vaguely pathetic) life, until the day a whacked out hacker claims to have known him in a "patht life". Soon after, he's thrown into a world of aliens, batterwitches, and conspiraces that are just so crazy, they just may be true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Matrix Dreams

Your name is **KARKAT VANTAS** , and you like to think you lead a pretty normal life; you got to work, pay taxes, attend the occasional night class on criminal justice. You don’t have many friends—or, any friends, really (unless Crazy Dragon Girl from your night class counts. She’s friendly, but you don’t hang out or anything.) There is positively nothing remarkable about your life, except for the metric fuckton of romantic comedies you own on DVD.

 

This being said, you cannot begin to fathom why you always attract the crazies. You’ve taken a break from your Friday night tradition of Netflix and pizza to go out to a bar, maybe in hopes of getting laid like Crazy Dragon Girl maintains you need to do, but if nothing else, than to get completely pissed and spend Saturday in bed nursing a hangover. You’re on your third drink—something fruity and pink, with a name that alludes to sex, probably; you’re not sure—when you make eye contact with someone down the bar and nearly choke on it.

 

The guy is Class A Nerd, for sure, but he’s at least Class A _Hot_ Nerd: blond hair and weird-ass glasses with blue and red lenses, lean and tall and _why yes, Sir Knight, you may park your dragon in my dungeon_. His eyebrows shoot up at the sight of you, and you take a quick moment to glance in the mirrored backing of the bar to assure yourself that there is nothing on your face. A quick run of your tongue over your teeth says you don’t have anything in them, so, _score_ , Hot Nerd is _interested_. Which, hey, it’s not like you’re anything to sneeze at. Sure, your black hair is a little unruly a lot of the time, and you’re a bit… vertically challenged, and maybe a little on the chubby side, but you’re mildly aesthetically pleasing.

 

You give him a smile, and he gives you the widest grin ever. Yep, _totally_ interested. You make a gesture at the empty stool next to you and he hops up from his own, grabbing his pint glass and walking over. You’re about to pat yourself mentally on the back for a successful pull when he sits down, and opens his mouth.

 

“Oh my god, KK, thank _god_ I found you; I thought I wath the only perthon who remembered.”

 

_God. Fucking. Dammit._

 

“Uh,” you begin eloquently. “Have we met?”

 

Hot (and apparently Neurotic) Nerd frowns. “Thit.” he says. “You don’t… it’th me, Thollux.”

 

“Yeah, no.” You _really_ hate everything right now. It was always the hot ones, wasn’t it? “Thollux” curses, putting his face in his hands.

 

“Perfect.” he sighed. “Jutht fucking perfect.”  
  


“Are you okay, man?” you ask, because the dude looks like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown , and the only thing worse than a hot neurotic dude is a hot neurotic dude crying on you, because that one’s more likely to do things to your heart and make you pity the poor bastard, and in your experience, pity is more dangerous than attraction; it makes you underestimate people.

 

“Thollux” shakes his head, scrubbing his hands across his dace. “I jutht thought…” he begins, before cutting himself off with a rueful laugh. “God, why have _me_ remember if no one elthe can?”

 

“Remember _what_?” This is really, really starting to worry you. Hot Neurotic Guy Who Thinks He Knows You is in obvious need of some professional help you cannot provide.

 

“The _game_ , KK!” he cries, a little too loudly for the small bar. A few heads swivel your way, and  he stares down at his lap, tone hushed as he continues to speak.

 

“The game; Thugrub. We played it— _won_ it; would’ve claimed that damn reward , too , if it hadn’t ben for those kids and their idiotic prototyping. We were all on the meteor, and ED went crazy, and so did GZ, and everyone died ‘cept you and me, and GA and TZ, and GZ, and I was blind and you knocked my teeth out and goddammit why do I have to remember!” The last part seemed to be more for himself than anyone else. He looked like he was actually about to cry, and damn everything if that didn’t tug a few heart strings.

 

“Look, Thollux,” You reach a hand out and put it on his shoulder, and he looks up.

 

“Thollux,” he says. “With a ‘ehth’. It’s the lithp; I don’t know what _that_ had to thick, but, it did.”

 

“Okay, _Sollux_.” you say, and the name feels… _righter_ , in a way. “I’m sure you… think that what you’re talking about actually happened, but---”

 

“Thpare me.” Sollux snorts, pulling away. “I’ve already heard it from FF; you think I need ‘profethional help’ and are willing to direct me to a great thrapitht. I don’t _need_ help, I need thomeone to remember.” He stands, pulling a few dollar bills out of his pocket and slapping them down on the counter. He pauses for a moment before pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper, scribbling something on it, and handing it to you.

 

“If you thart to remember anything.” he says. “Pether me, okay?” He’s walking away before you can splutter out ‘yeah’, and you’re left to just stare at his back as he pushes through the crowd and out the door.

 

You glance down at the paper with what you assume is his Chumhandle written on it, and you momentarily contemplate throwing it away. He was obviously deranged, or drunk, or high, or possibly some combination of the three, and it wasn’t likely you were going to see him again any time soon. In the end, though, you just fold it up and shove it in your pocket, just in case.

 

(In case of what, though, you aren’t sure.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been written for about four months, and not posted because I was trying to figure out formatting. Now, I'm just saying 'fuck it'. Enjoy!

Your name is SOLLUX CAPTOR, and if you were still a troll, you’d have probably been red as all give out for yourself right now, because you were in a pitiful state. For a minute, you’d almost thought that you _weren’t_ going to have all your hopes shot down with just a few words, but that just goes to show that your luck is among the worst in probably the entire multiverse.

You slam the door behind you once you get back to your small apartment; you’re sure the old woman next door will have her complaints in the morning, but you really couldn’t care less. You throw yourself down into your desk chair in front of your husk top-- desktop, as the humans call it, which you guess makes sense, but you still can’t bring yourself to call it that. You shake your double monitors awake, your email inbox displayed on one, and dead- as always- Pesterchum window on the other. You don’t like the system as much as Trollian, but, it’s what you’ve got to work with so you’ll make do.

In your inbox are three messages requesting you to work on some projects. Your name’s gotten around in the world of encryption, much to your chagrin, and you’ve been picking up enough money to pay the rent that way. You wouldn’t dare think of taking it up full time, though; your main goal is still getting back to your former self and saving your friends. Even though you’re not exactly what they need saving from, you’re sure there’s something.

You give succinct “I’ll see what I can do” responses to the emails, and push back to settle into the chair for the night. There’s a mattress on the floor, of course, that would probably be better for your back and overall sleeping experience, but you can’t bring yourself to get away from the computer when something so big had just happened.

The night dredged up bad memories galore, and reminded you acutely of why you decided that you weren’t going to go looking for your friends again after Feferi. She’d looked so scared when you started babbling, and even had the _nerve_ to call in _Eridan_ to escort you out-- god, you’d almost punched him out then and there. You reserved a special kind of platonic hate for Ampora that you would never be able to label as anything other than pure loathing.

You had no idea how you got to be this way; one day, you were on the ship in the dream bubble, enjoying yourself as much as any dead guy could and generally feeling pretty good, and the next, you’d woken up in this pink flesh suit of doom and despair without any clue what was going on-- you remembered the game, and Alternia, and everything, but thus far you seemed to be the only one.

You had a working theory of why this was, of course, but nothing concrete so far. You could only hope that you weren’t the only one, like you were pretty sure you were, or that there was some way to trigger the memories of your peers.

You heaved a sigh and closed your eyes. You were just going to have to get back into the swing; keep an eye on him and try and see what you could do. Who knew? Maybe luck would decide that it was going to maybe sprinkle some magic dust your way.

God, you would _kill_ to be AG right about now.

You’re not eager to fall asleep, but it comes anyway, and what you like to call your “dream screen” opens up as it always does-- you feel like you have double vision, with two versions of yourself both seeing with both of your eyes. It makes your head hurt, and you wish you could control it like you used to be able to. Here, it’s like your Dersite and Prospitian selves have combined into one, like a huge ectobiological disaster, but even through all the waviness and headache inducing trippiness, what you’re seeing through both sets of eyes is the same thing: a lab, somewhere, with tubes in a circle. Thirteen, you know, though you can’t turn to your left or your right to make sure, containing the dream selves of your friends, and both of your own. You don’t know where the lab is, or why it exists, or _anything,_ really, other than the fact that it _does_ , but you know that finding it is what’s going to get you back home.

Something’s different tonight, though; you can heard muffled footsteps. Heels are click-clicking on the probably tile floors of the lab, and they send a chill down your spine, even though you’re not sure who they belong to.

There’s a shadow being cast on the wall across from you in the dim red lighting of the laboratory, tall, with hair wild, and _now_ you understand. You hold your breath, though you don’t even think you’re _breathing_ (both of these bodies are dead, after all, no matter what kind of consciousness they may have, as a wave of fear and recognition washes over you.

  
You’re both disappointed and relieved by the pinging noise that wakes you up. You had a feeling, had you continued sleeping, you would have seen her face, and you’re not sure what that would have done-- it isn’t like you needed to, anyway; you know full well who’s holding you captive.

Instead of pondering the burning question of _why_ , you roll your neck and blink up at your email monitor, only to find… nothing. You’re confused, for a moment until your face lights up at your _other_ monitor.

Someone was pestering you.

\--- timaeusTicktock [ **TT** ] has started pestering twofoldAmnesia [ **TA** ]---

TA: who are you?  
TT: Good, you answered.   
TT: I’m a human.  
TA: so i assumed. and i also assume i have a name, or am i wrong?  
TT: Wow, you even cut the quirk. Humanity has changed you guys, hasn’t it?  
TT: I’m Dirk Strider.

You suck in a breath.

TA: oh my god.  
TA: seriously? you’re joking.  
TT: If only.  
TT: You have no idea how many pages of chumhandles I had to sort through to find you, man. It was *insane*.  
TA: you’re one of THOSE humans.  
TA: the ones that screwed us over.  
TT: Uh, no. Not my session.  
TT: You must be thinking of the other human session, the one with the far less attractive Strider who wears the much more douchey shades.  
TA: whatever.   
TA: you remember.  
TT: Indeed I do.  
TT: Or, should I say “unfortunately, I do”?  
TT: It can be a pain sometimes.  
TA: you don’t have two remind me of that.  
TT: I don’t have two, huh?  
TA: *to  
TA: you know what i mean. it slips out sometimes.   
TT: Yeah, I get it.  
TA: what do you want?  
TA: i mean, i’m assuming you didn’t sort through all those chumhandles just to say hi.  
TT: You’d be correct in that assumption.  
TT: We both remember.  
TA: yeah, so?  
TT: And I’m assuming that means you know what’s going on? Why we can’t get back how we were?  
TA: that’s where you’re wrong.  
TA: i don’t have any idea what this is all about.  
TT: Do you hear that, bro?  
TT: A little birdy’s telling me that that’s the biggest cow patty this side of the multiverse.  
TA: the biggest what?  
TT: The Batterwitch. The lab. You see it too, I know you do, because if you didn’t? You wouldn’t remember.  
TA: how do you know what i see?  
TT: Because I see *you*, idiot.

You freeze, and then whip around, frantically searching for somewhere he could be watching from. There’s another ping.

TT: I mean, in the dream.  
TA: oh.   
TA: obviously.  
TA: how can you see me? there are thirteen tube things.  
TT: Our dream selves aren’t in the lab.  
TT: Us being the humans.  
TT: We’re just sort of… here?   
TA: here are in earth?  
TT: Yeah.  
TA: you’re still not answering my question, though: how can you see me?  
TT: Heart players have a different thing going on. We can splinter ourselves.  
TT: Apparently, one of my splinters is there. Don’t know the how, only sort of know the why, but I’m there, and I can just sort of… feel that you’re awake.  
TA: okay. okay.  
TA: and what exactly does that mean for me? or, us?  
TT: I thought that was a little obvious.   
TT: It means that there’s a way back, duh.  
TT: If we can find the lab, we find ourselves.   
TA: so, what? we just go on a wild honk-beast chance, looking for a place that, in all actuality, may not even be on this planet?  
TT: No. When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.  
TT: What we do it we find that Batterwitch. If we’re here, she’s here; she has to be.  
TT: We get her, and we get to the lab.

If that plan had maybe sounded just a little bit crazier, you would have said goodnight and blocked the guy. It, however, _was_ the only plan you had after years of working one up, so it really wasn’t even a choice.

TA: alright.  
TA: find the condesce, get to the lab, get back to the medium.

TT: There’s a good man. I’ll be in touch when I get some leads.

　

\--- timaeusTicktock [ **TT** ] has ceased pestering twofoldAmnesia [ **TA** ]---

You stare at the screen for a few moments before giving a loud sigh and flopping your head onto the desk. You’d wished for some luck, and it looks like you found it; good or bad, however, you don’t know.

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

==> Be Dirk

You are now DIRK STRIDER, and you’re idly tapping your fingers along the side of your phone as you stare at your darkened chumlist. You weren’t exactly sure how you should be feeling right now; the whole thing had gone a lot smoother than you’d thought it would, and now you were just left to wait. There’s a shifting beside you in the bed, and a pair of arms wraps around your waist.

“You’ve been up for ages, Strider; go to bed.” Sometimes it makes you guilty, how gentle Jake’s voice it when he talks to you. It’s not like before; this wouldn’t be how it was if you were still where you were supposed to be. (It then makes you feel even worse, because there’s a not so small part of you that wants to stay here, just because of that.)

“In a minute.” you murmur, ruffling his hair. He huffs.

“You said that _ten_ minutes ago, and again twenty before.” he said, taking your phone from you and laying it on the bedside table beside him, where you couldn’t easily reach it. “Sleep. We both need it.”

You sigh, but you do as you’re asked and wriggle down onto the mattress. You lay your head onto his shoulder and you can feel him smile as you both close your eyes. “Love you.” he says, and that _always_ manages to make something in your break just a little bit more, because that would _never_ happen if everything was alright.

“Love you too.” you reply anyway.

You wait, and he’s snoring like a chainsaw not even ten minutes later. You, however, will be awake all night. Guilt does that to a person.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp! Another one? Once again written four months ago. Enjoy.

You’re once again KARKAT VANTAS, and your night class was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago. It agitates you when things start late; you’re a damn busy guy. You could be squeezing in another six episodes of Grey’s Anatomy right now, but instead, you’re stuck waiting for your teacher (and a good majority of your classmates) to arrive. Typical of the world to do this to you.

You hear the door open, and turn your head to accost whoever it was for being late, but it’s just Crazy Dragon Girl. She take a deep breath before smiling and twirling her cane as she makes her way over and takes the seat next to you. “Hey, Karkat.” she drawls, and you give a tight smile.

“Terezi.” Her grin only widens at your curt tone, if that’s at all possible. Whenever she smiles at you, you can’t help but imagine a mouth full of wicked sharp teeth like a sharks; Terezi is a predator, you can tell. It isn’t a wonder in the least that she’s decided to become a lawyer.

“You’re smelling particularly perturbed this evening.” It freaks you out how she always seems to be able to read you, even though she can’t see the face you’re making. You frown.

“Am I? That might be my new cologne, Eau de _Our Professor is as slow as an elderly slug_.”

Terezi laughs. “It hasn’t been _that_ long since class was supposed to start, chill _out,_ Karkat. It isn’t _his_ fault that you set your watch a billion years ahead of every clock in the world.”

“I do not!” you huff. “I set it by the clock in the lobby of my apartment building, I’ll have you know. Very accurate.”

“Yes, of course. The clock set to the year one million A.R.- that stands for _anal retentive_ , by the way.” She’s leaning back now, staring straight forward. “Like I said, chill. He’ll be here.”

Like your life was some kind of D-list sitcom, the professor enters right on cue, power walking to the podium like a pro and sweating through his cheap suit like he’d just run a marathon. “My apologies for my tardiness.” he rumbles, fiddling with his note cards and straightening his tie. “We can begin the lesson now; picking up from last night, when we discussed laws regarding domestic disputes…”

You start to zone out as he lectures; you always do. Your hands are writing the notes, but your mind is somewhere entirely elsewhere. Tonight, it’s back at the bar, studying Mr. Crazy Hot. Sollux, he’d said his name was, and that feels _right_ in a way that unnerves you, so you disregard it.

His chumhandle is still in the pocket of your only good hoodie, and it’s burning a metaphorical hole in it like it’d suddenly decided to drop some phat rhymes right then and there. You’d only barely resisted the temptation to pester him as soon as you got home on the premise that you needed to prepare for the oncoming hangover (which was a bitch to deal with), but now, you curiosity was quickly winning over your natural instinct to stay as far out of whatever this was as possible.

Class is over before you even realize it, and you have ten pages of notes that for some reason include every “uh”, “er”, or “oh my” that came out of Professor Zahaak’s mouth. You’ll have to sort through them later, but right now, there’s something else weighing on your mind.

“A boon for your thoughts, Mr. Vantas?” Terezi asks as you pack up your stuff. You give her a look, and shrug.

“Not sure what a boon is, or what it’s worth.” you reply. “But I’m sure my thoughts are worth just as much.”

“They’re worth pretty much nothing.” Terezi replies. “So I’d say not. What’s up?”

“A guy. A crazy, crazy guy.” Terezi gasps, and gives the same “ooooh” one would expect from a sixth grader.

“A _guy_ ; Mr. _Vantas!_ ” she sounds like a scandalized Victorian maiden, and you roll your eyes at her.

“Not like that, shut up. It’s just this dude who was talking nonsense at me at the bar yesterday; he was probably drunk, or on something.”

“A bar- the plot thickens!” You’re not sure why she insists on acting like some kind of noir theatre detective, but it only makes you roll your eyes harder. “What kind of nonsense? Long lost lover nonsense- star crossed souls connected across time and space by a single delicious red string?”

“May as well have.” you snort, shouldering your bookbag. “Started talking about some kind of game we played, and how we weren’t human, and all kind of bull like that.”

Terezi sniffed, face twisting into something not unlike someone that just smelled a load of fermented garbage. “That does sound a little bit crazy. Did you get a name, or something?”

“Sollux,” you reply. “But I’m not sure why it matters; I’m probably never gonna see him again.”

“Just in case, though.” Terezi taps her cane against the ground pensively. “You don’t know _what_ kind of crazy he is; he could be fixated on you.”

“I don’t know why he would be.” You start walking, and she follows. You hold the door open for her when you get to it, and she gives a brief smile in acknowledgment as you continue. “I mean, we’ve only met the one time, and I shut him down pretty much immediately.”

“That wouldn’t stop him, though, if he was really.” She looped the index finger on her free hand around her head in the universal sign for ‘absolutely off his rocker’. “He could think you’re lying, or that you don’t remember. Just… be careful, okay?” You’re both standing out in the parking lot now, at you’re biting your lip. She was bringing up some good points, really, and as someone who’d watched enough procedural cop shows to start thinking that going into criminal justice was a good idea you should _know_ that what she was saying was true and definitely a good enough reason to get a few extra deadbolts, but there was still a very, very stupid part of you that for some horrible, terrible reason took precedence over all the others chanting “do it, do it, do it.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to? Careful is my middle name, Pyrope; Karkat Caution Vantas, that’s me.” you snort anyway, and you can’t tell by the sniffing noise she makes whether she bought it or not. You’re saved from finding out by a honking car horn though- Terezi’s girlfriend is hanging her head out the window, calling “get in, loser, we’re going LARPing”, and a doofy grin is spreading over her face as she walk towards the vehicle.

“Take care of yourself!” you call after her. She turns and gives you a wave.

“Same!” she says, before getting in the car. They peel out of the parking lot like they’re being chased by the cops, and you sigh. You get into your own car, and start driving home. Time to make some bad decisions.

\-- **compressedGallantry** [ **CG** ] has started pestering **twofoldAmneisa** [ **TA** ]--

CG: ALRIGHT, WHAT DO YOU  
CG: WAIT, NO.  
CG: There we go.  
CG: What do you want?  
TA: i think i should be the one asking you that.  
TA: since, you know. you pestered me.  
CG: Whatever. I’m not the one that was spouting nonsense, so I earned that question fair and square.  
CG: So, I ask again: what do you want?  
TA: i *wanted* to talk.  
CG: And now I’m willing to. So, talk.  
TA: i won’t waste my breath on someone that is just going to write me off as a nut.  
CG: You’ve gotta admit, you didn’t give me much of a reason not to.  
CG: From my point of view, that could have been anything from a weird pick up line to an acid trip.  
TA: i’m not on anything.  
CG: Maybe you need to be.  
TA: shut up. i don’t need to hear this from you.  
TA: i’m not crazy. i know i’m not.  
TA: at least, i’m not any kind of crazy that needs to be medicated.  
CG: Whatever you say.  
CG: I didn’t come here to recommend a shrink, anyway, even though I’m sure I could list off some decent ones if the need arises.  
CG: I came to talk. To hear what you have to say.  
TA: very diplomatic of you, kk.  
TA: don’t do that.  
CG: You’re right, it is. I’m full of diplomacy; a metaphorical ambassador from the United States of Reality unto whatever acid trip nation inhabits your mind.  
TA: i’m not on  
TA: whatever. leave me alone. i have work to do.  
CG: What kind of work?   
TA: work to help us to get back to normal.  
CG: There is no “back to”. I *am* normal.  
TA: if you want to think that, okay. catch you on the flip side, nook for brains.

\-- **twofoldAmnesia** [ **TA** ] has ceased pestering **condensedGallantry** [ **CG** ] --

You swear loudly into the confines of your own apartment. This wasn’t what you wanted to do; you had actually wanted to _talk_ to the guy, and get some sort of explanation out of him, not piss him off.

　

\-- **compressedGallantry** [ **CG** ] has started pestering **twofoldAmneisa** [ **TA** ]--

\--  **twofoldAmnesia** [ **TA** ] has ceased pestering **condensedGallantry** [ **CG** ] --

\-- **compressedGallantry** [ **CG** ] has started pestering **twofoldAmneisa** [ **TA** ]--

\-- **twofoldAmnesia** [ **TA** ] has ceased pestering **condensedGallantry** [ **CG** ] --

\-- **compressedGallantry** [ **CG** ] has started pestering **twofoldAmneisa** [ **TA** ]--

TA: seriously, kk, i will block you.  
CG: Okay, sure, whatever, but before you do.  
CG: I just wanna know the story, okay?  
CG: I didn’t come here to be a condescending idiot, I just came to hear the story.  
TA: the story?  
CG: Yeah. The story of the game, or whatever.  
TA: it’s not exactly a short one.  
CG: My only plans for the rest of the evening involved yelling at fictional people, so, I’ve got time.  
TA: there’s the kk i know.  
TA: anyway.  
TA: we lived on a planet called alternia, and we were trolls.  
CG: Like, under-the-bridge trolls?  
TA: no, something completely different. we were like…   
TA: i don’t know how to explain it. one sec.

 

\-- **twofoldAmnesia** [ **TA** ] has sent **condensedGallantry** [ **CG** ] [troll.jpeg] --

  
  
CG: We were a child’s MSPaint drawing?  
TA: no! shut up, i’m not an artist.  
CG: Gray skin, really? And… those things are horns, right?  
CG: B- for creativity here.  
TA: i’m not making this up, so i don’t have to be creative.  
TA: anyway. we got this game, sgrub, and we started playing- me, you and ten of our… friends, i guess? ten other trolls we knew.  
CG: There are other people involved in this? Jesus Christ.  
TA: shut UP, karkat, for like two seconds. you wanted to hear the story, i’m telling it.  
CG: Right. Continue.  
TA: so, anyway. ten other trolls. we started out on teams, but those eventually broke down, and we all joined together.  
TA: the objective of the game was to make a new planet for our species to live on. and, we won.  
CG: So, what? Earth is our new planet?  
TA: yes. and no.  
TA: it was supposed to be, but before we could claim the reward, this superboss came out of nowhere and slashed our door. we had to stay on this meteor we found, and when we were trying to find out what happened, we found out that another session- one with these “humans” from the planet we’d made- had accidentally prototyped a really powerful guardian with their sprite, and essentially made the boss omnipotent.   
CG: So, we made Earth. You’re telling me the we *made the entire planet of Earth*.  
CG: And you’re not crazy.  
TA: no, i’m not.  
CG: Have you had that tested?  
TA: shut UP, of my god. look, i know i’m not, because if i was i wouldn’t know who any of you people are.  
TA: because, karkat, before last night i have never seen you before in this life, but i KNEW it was you. i know you, and if this isn’t how, then i don’t know what’s going on.  
TA: if this isn’t true, i shouldn’t know about you, or feferi, or terezi, or aradia, or eridan, vriska, nepeta, equius, gamzee, kanaya, or tavros or ANYONE.

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard.

CG: How do you know Terezi?  
TA: i’ve already told you.  
CG: No. No. Cut the bull for *FIVE SECONDS*, you NUTBALLING CREEP.  
CG: HOW. DO YOU KNOW. TEREZI.  
TA: i have already TOLD YOU!  
TA: never met her, never saw her, not while i was human. but i know her.  
CG: Leave her out of this. Leave her alone.  
TA: i didn’t intend to do anything to her.  
CG: Keep it that way.  
CG: Leave her alone.  
CG: As a matter of fact, leave me alone, too.

\-- **compressedGallantry** [ **CG** ] has ceased pestering **twofoldAmnesia** [ **TA** ]--

\-- **compressedGallantry** [ **CG** ] has blocked **twofoldAmnesia** [ **TA** ]--

You’re shaking and shaken; this was a bad idea. This had been a horrible, terrible idea, and you should have just listened to Terezi and let him go. You had thought that you could listen to his story and either write him off as crazy and be over with it, or somehow find sense it and then in your own life, but now you were just more than a little terrified and questioning a lot of things.

You take a few deep breaths, and push your laptop away. You close your eyes. It was all a joke; this was some elaborate joke that was being pulled on you, or some kind of dream. You were exhausted; this was just your brain telling you that you needed to lie down and take it easy. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Open your eyes.

You opened your laptop again, closing out of pesterchum entirely and pulling up Netflix. If there was every a time for a Jennifer Aniston marathon, now was that time.

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

==> Be Sollux

You are now SOLLUX, and you’re probably on the verge of a) tears, b) a mental breakdown, or c) all of the above. You were just telling the _truth_ ; he’d _asked_ for the truth. So, why did that never end up how you wanted it to. You took a breath. You didn’t have time for this; you had work to do.

\--- twofoldAmnesia [ **TA** ]has started pestering **timaeusTicktock** [ **TT** ]---

TA: you got anything yet?  
TT: It’s only been a day, dude. Chill.  
TA: right. i just… i need something to do.  
TT: Something shake you up?  
TA: you could say that.  
TT: Batterwitch?  
TA: no. personal.  
TT: Ah. I know that feeling.  
TT: Chin up, dude. It’ll be okay.  
TA: yeah, it will. as soon as we fix this.  
TT: Yeah.  
TT: I got half a plan, alright? Gimmie a day or two to get it finalized, and I’ll spill the beans. Can you wait that long?  
TA: yeah. yeah, sure.  
TA: talk to you then.  
TT: Later.

\--- timaeusTicktock [ **TT** ] has ceased pestering twofoldAmnesia [ **TA** ]---

 

　

　


End file.
